


What Do You Have?

by goodmanperfectsoldier



Series: Bad Dog! [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Mentions of Menstruation, Mentions of poop, Sort Of, Werewolves, funny but gross, the riskiest thing I’ve ever posted and it’s about a werewolf eating poop, this is gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 13:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmanperfectsoldier/pseuds/goodmanperfectsoldier
Summary: Or, Five Gross Things Steve Picked Out of Bucky’s Mouth and One Thing He Just Let Him EatThis is not actually entirely Mambo’s fault for once, though it is, as always, dedicated to her lovely dog Monty and my dogs Denny and Roux (who have, between them, tried to eat all of these things).





	What Do You Have?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning: this is kind of gross. Funny, but gross. Nothing you won’t recognize if you’re a dog owner, but still. I just want to be sure people are warned! Heed the tags and pop down to the bottom for a list of the six things Bucky (in wolf form) puts in his mouth in this fic, if you’d like to know before you read.

**One**

The first time Steve catches Bucky’s wolf chewing on something he shouldn’t be, he makes the mistake of screeching, “What are you eating?”

This, of course, causes Bucky to immediately snap his jaw shut in a veritable death grip on whatever is in there. It takes a surprising amount of Steve’s considerable strength to pry it open again, and when he finally does, he finds the remains of one  _ very _ wet… sock. 

“Ugh,” Steve says, carefully holding Bucky’s teeth apart and reaching into his mouth to drag the sock out. It takes a minute, as he doesn’t want to touch the sock (or the inside of Bucky’s wolf-mouth, for that matter) more than absolutely necessary. After a bit, he gets a solid grip on it with only two fingers and brings it out. 

Steve hasn’t seen a sock that nasty since they all got trench-foot in France in the summer of 1944. 

“No,” he says, very seriously, to Bucky, who just wrestles control of his teeth back and uses them to give Steve a big wolfy grin. 

**Two**

Bucky, thankfully, only feels absolutely compelled to go wolfy one night of each moon cycle, when it is at its absolute fullest. But the thing about full moons is that they actually last several nights, and Bucky still gets that itch under his skin for the other ones, too. So once he really gets a hang of the whole thing, he starts getting furry a couple of nights a month. The urge to hunt is less enticing then, so Steve usually spends those extra evenings sitting on the porch, tossing balls and other toys that Bucky refuses to admit the wolf loves. 

It’s on one of those nights that Bucky trots back up the stairs not with the bright yellow tennis ball that Steve had thrown toward the tree line but a mouthful of soggy, rotting leaves. Unfortunately for Steve, this is not obvious until it’s too late, and he receives the disgusting present directly into his open hand. 

“Buck!” Steve scolds, flinging the mess onto the wooden surface of the porch and dropping to his knees to fish the rest out of Bucky’s happy, open mouth. It’s really not necessary — it’s not like even decomposing leaves could put up any sort of fight against Bucky’s combination of super-serum and werewolf blood — but it’s part punishment and part insurance for Steve that Bucky doesn’t have anything else in there to spit on him. 

When he’s done, Steve cups Bucky’s furry face in his hands, looks directly into his bright gold eyes, and says, “Go get the ball now, please.” He may or may not use the Captain America voice, just a little. 

Bucky, as usual, doesn’t react. But he does go get the ball.

**Three**

Living on the edge of the woods, with no neighbors for miles in every direction unless you count the birds and animals, might just be the biggest change Steve and Bucky have had to make to their everyday lives since Bucky’s unfortunate incident on the moon. They both miss the city sometimes, but there are a lot of advantages to living practically off the grid, even outside of the ones that benefit the wolf. Like having space for a garden and, subsequently, a composting bin. 

Steve installs said composting bin the second summer that they’re in the cabin, to get ready for planting in the spring. The two of them go through a lot of food, and therefore have a lot of scraps to throw in. The bin is pretty much full by the time the July full moon rolls around. 

This is, it turns out, unfortunate for Steve. Because while the wolf is more interested in the raw meat he leaves out on the porch than he is in hunting live prey, he’s even more interested in investigating the compost bin. 

Mouth-first, of course.

(“You try going a few hours without opposable thumbs,” Bucky has said on more than one occasion. Steve just sighs.)

Steve’s barely made it out the door when he hears the clang of the bin lid. He jogs around the side of the house to investigate and finds his boyfriend head and fore-legs deep in dirt and vegetable scraps.

“Get out of there, you mutt!” Steve yells at his back. Bucky doesn’t move, and Steve thinks for a second that he’s being ignored—wouldn’t be the first time—but then the wolf heaves himself back out of the bin and turns to face him. Bucky’s mouth is open, tongue hanging out, and there’s a browning banana peel draped over his snout. He looks so dumb and so happy that Steve can’t help but laugh, even as he kneels down to pull the carrot tops out of Bucky’s teeth.

**Four**

Aside from the incident with the compost bin, the wolf is pretty good about not getting into the trash, as long as Steve remembers not to leave anything that might smell like meat in there around the full moon. He figures that out early on, thank goodness, and there’s an entire year where he doesn’t have to clean up even one overturned trash can.

And then they have a guest who has their own kind of monthly cycle, and it doesn’t even occur to Steve that he might want to empty the tiny can in the guest bathroom before the full moon hits.

He wakes up the morning after and there’s no sign of the wolf, which isn’t entirely unusual. 

The sounds coming from the other end of the house, however, are. Steve, still half-asleep, follows them to the guest bathroom, where the sight of Bucky with a used pad sticking out the side of his mouth wakes Steve up better than any cup of coffee ever has.

He very nearly just leaves the wolf to it and goes back to bed, but he doesn’t think Bucky would ever forgive him. So he just says, “Drop it!” in the most authoritative voice he can muster.

It doesn’t work.

“God, you are so lucky I love you, nasty,” Steve says, sighing and using a handful of toilet paper to grab the pad. He throws the whole bundle away and drags Bucky from the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

At least the wolf hasn’t figured out how to unlock doors. 

Yet.

**Five**

The condom is marginally less disgusting than the pad—it’s not like Bucky hasn’t ever had Steve’s jizz in his mouth before—but it is also one-hundred percent without a doubt Steve’s fault. 

Even a super-soldier’s aim isn’t always perfect, especially in that hazy post-orgasm recovery period. So he misses the trash can every so often. And he probably should have cleaned up before the full moon, but after a couple years of living peacefully with Bucky’s wolf, the two of them are, to be honest, more than a little lazy about the preparation. 

Still, Steve has no one to blame but himself on the morning he comes back to bed with his coffee to see something rubbery dangling from Bucky’s teeth. He just groans. 

“It’s way too early for this, Buck,” he says, trying very hard not to consider his dick and Bucky’s wolf-teeth in the same thought. “Give it here,” Steve adds, putting out his hand. 

Bucky, the little shit, shakes his head. Steve would ask why he’s man enough to make that sort of gesture but wolf enough to think that trying to eat a used condom is a good idea, but he really doesn’t want to know anymore. 

**Plus One**

Of course, like any canine, the wolf can sniff out clumps of animal poop anywhere on their property. Actually, Steve thinks, given how keen Bucky’s sense of smell was even before his furry little problem came around, he can probably do it in a much larger radius. 

Steve’s learning not to ask Bucky questions about the wolf, so he googles this one instead, why dogs eat poop. Something about leftover nutrients in there that other animals can’t digest but canines can, blah blah. Steve’s grateful for the knowledge, even if it does nothing to keep Bucky’s wolf from going after every random dropping he finds in the yard. 

So when Bucky pops up from a long sniff in the grass, jaw working happily, Steve doesn’t even bother reprimanding him. And he’s definitely not reaching into Bucky’s mouth for  _ that _ . He can eat all the poop he likes, as far as Steve is concerned. 

As long as he brushes his teeth in the morning.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Things Bucky (in wolf form) eats or tries to eat, in order:  
1\. Sock  
2\. Rotting leaves  
3\. Compost  
4\. Used menstrual pad  
5\. Used condom  
6\. Animal poop
> 
> I really hope this was more funny-gross than gross-gross.
> 
> Thank you to [Deisderium](https://twitter.com/deisderium) for the beta, and to [Mambo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambo/) for help with the ideas.
> 
> Check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softestbuck) for, frankly, a bunch of nonsense!


End file.
